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Three Broadcasts - Season 3 teaser

These three clips were shared on social media (locked away behind three separate puzzles) to tease our upcoming season.

The third and final season of The Silt Verses is scheduled to launch on 17 August 2023. We can't wait to share it with you.


We’re listening to birdsong and the sound of running water.


The radio tunes and retunes. 


And we hear the voice of FAULKNER. Softly inspirational music is playing underneath him.


Children of the Water.


My name is Katabasian Faulkner, prophet of the river. And I bear you a message from the Twin Mouths of the Trawler-man.


You have heard the lies from the mouths of the lawful authorities since their war began. 


They proclaim every lucky victory an ordained triumph, they purge the records of each defeat.


They say that they are winning their war against the Linger Straits, even as their footfalls carry them closer to the precipice.


There will be drafts, there will be raids. 

We must all be vigilant, and we must find our safety in each other. The old hiding-places are waiting for you, if you wish to come and join us.


You might have heard, too, the demonstrably false rumours that there are those amongst our leadership who have been seeking to turn us over to the mercy of the Legislatures.


And while I am certain that there is no truth to these stories, I have requested a meeting with the Katabasians’ Council to settle the matter once and for all, and I am glad to say they have generously granted my request.


Continue to pray. Make your sacrifices of tide and flesh where you can. Trust no voice of authority but the one that comes rippling up from the deep water.


And to our brethren upriver - keep a close watch for the government assassin who murdered Katabasian Mason. 


Watch for her at night or in the shadows of the water. 


Allow her no place of refuge, give her no chance to flee or hide from the Trawler-man’s wrath. The guilty shall have their drowning end.


The river rises.

The radio cuts out.


We're sitting in a car, listening to the pouring rain.


The radio tunes and retunes. 


And we hear the voice of HAYWARD. He sounds tired and desperate.


Whoever you are.


Our message is a difficult one to hear, because it goes against comfort.


But you need to hear it.


Kill your gods. 


Let them starve. Deny them their sacrifices and offerings. Wipe away the prayer-marks. Watch them hunger, and rage.


Kill the stories that gave birth to them. Murder their roots, choke their buds.


Hack away the thorns and the vines of the old faiths and the new that have buried themselves in you.


Come away maimed, and bleeding, but free of them.

Kill your gods. 


If you want to help us, here’s how you can do it-

-and the sound cuts out.


A low 'technical difficulties' buzz replaces it.


A desolate ruin. We hear a rodent gnawing upon something tasty and then scuttling away. The wind howls all around us.


A hum as a public address system activates. Then we hear the voice of PRESS SECRETARY CARSON booming out over the speakers.



People of the Peninsula. My fellow citizens.


This is an emergency message from Press Secretary Carson, speaking on behalf of the High Adjudicator’s Office and the Legislatures of the Nation.


You’ve already heard about this week’s successful airstrikes against weapons facilities and illegal theistic munitions factories along the coast of the Consolidated Linger Straits. 


These strikes - which are tactical, precise, and only a small measure of our potential military power - bring us one step closer to assuring our security and asserting our sovereignty over the aggressor to the north. 


We remain open to the possibility of a peace accord with Nesh as soon as they prove themselves amenable to reason.


To the followers of the nation’s wind-gods - we give you particular thanks for your prayers and your sacrifices. Please, keep up the good work. Beseech your deities for a favourable breeze to guide our rockets and our missiles.


And to the citizens along the Peninsula’s northern coast, who I know are suffering from the clumsy, reckless and haphazard strikes carried out by our opponent - hang on in there, folks. You’ve got the whole nation behind you.


I also know that there are stories spreading in some quarters about enlistment, about the possibility of a draft amongst the general citizenry. 

(Chuckling, growing a little more casual)

And the, the High Adjudicator just wants to nip this outrageous stuff in the bud before it gets started, OK-


Elsewhere, air raid sirens begin to sound.


We have no need for a draft. You’ve heard of our victories, you’ve seen our progress.


And let’s remember, too, that we have some cults from across the border - I’m speaking in particular of the so-called cult of the Woundtree, the Tree of Spite, or the Many Below - that are potentially spreading rumours such as these to undermine our war efforts and to disrupt our victories against the CLS.


Let’s not be suckers, OK?


If you have any questions, please address them to your local Adjudicator’s office.


Keep to your gods, keep to our nation’s values, and you have nothing whatsoever to fear.


May all of us be spared the cold of the altar stone; may all of us benefit from the heat of the flame.


The announcement ends.


We hear the faint roar of planes overhead, and the distant boom of explosions as the CLS strikes find their targets.


Unconcerned, the emergency address begins to activate again.


We hear the slow pad of footsteps.


Silence as CARPENTER gazes out across the landscape. She speaks to someone unseen.



(Tired, with nervousness in her voice - but resolute)

All right.


Come on, then.

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